A Templar's Temptation
by Doritos1996
Summary: In the events of Dragon Age 2, Cullen meets again with the Hero of Ferelden, the mage that he had been in love with, and old feelings come back to the surface.
1. Chapter 1

It is cold in Kirkwall today and even colder in the Gallows, where every icy glare the mages give me seems to penetrate my templar armor, piercing my soul with a frost unknown to common folk. I stand by my post, ever so loyal to our Knight-Commander, ever so persuaded that the mages are deserving of the treatment she inflicts upon them. The courtyard is empty—save for a handful of my colleagues, First Enchanter Orsino and his company of mages; the Champion's sister among them—and it is neither because of the rain that wets the slippery, marble tiles, nor due to the necessary curfews that Meredith has ordered. It is because of _her_ arrival. The arrival of Warden Commander Amell., very Hero of Ferelden. The arrival of my only weakness.

"Awful day for Kirkwall to be appreciated by a visitor, don't you think, Knight-Captain Cullen?"

"I would think so, Ser Thrask," I reply. "But I doubt Kirkwall has much to offer, even in a sunny day."

"Indeed," the older man agrees. "Still, considering Meredith invited the Hero, there should be a warmer welcome for her."

To that, I choose not to answer. The drizzle falls on my steel-capped shoulders, producing a tapping sound, which gets more disturbing as each second ticks by. Meredith stands by the main gate, imposing and proud and strong, convinced she is acting as correctly as her role allows. Yet, even _I _have started doubting her tactics, her irrational acts and the reasons that lie behind them. I have started doubting the danger mages pose, and their so-called temptations. I have started doubting the need of imprisoning them at all. And, most of all, I have started doubting myself for still defending her against anyone who's valiant enough to question her. It is difficult not to doubt anything when the Hero of Ferelden herself—the thoughts of whom I had tried so much to avoid—haunts my mind, turning my flesh and bones into liquid just as much as she used to back in the Circle, before she became a Grey Warden, before she defeated the Archdemon.

"She's here," Meredith whispers to the elf beside her, her eyes fixed on the boat that docked in the entrance. I shudder in pure anticipation, every cell in my body tingling with just the thought of her approaching. "Orsino, I trust that you will keep your mouth shut and not trouble the Hero with useless talk." It is more of a final order than a statement, but Orsino pays no mind to Meredith's vicious warnings and the glare that follows.

The First Enchanter folds his hands behind his back, starring right ahead. "I think I'm old enough to use my mouth as much as I want, Knight-Commander."

Meredith glares, but the Hero is within hearing distance, so she cannot argue any further. The jingle of armor reaches my ears, the soft thud of rough boots meeting ground, the hard sound of staff bouncing with each step. I blink, and when I open my eyes, she stands in front of Meredith; professional, confident, cautious and ever so beautiful. I breathe hard by now, hard enough that Ser Thrask is giving me worried looks and I tremble. _She has changed,_ that is my first thought. She has grown, she has matured, she _is_ the woman who has slain the Archdemon; she has seen more and been through more than any of us ever will. But when she smiles, her eyes light up in the same way they used to and the corners of her cerise lips twitch her cheeks in those two adorable dimples that make my heart melt, that make me feel naked despite my heavy armor. I feel the need to hide, to curl myself in the corner of my tiny room and forget everything. I don't _want_ her to see me; I don't want her to fix that astonishing gaze of hers on my face, because everything I have denied through all those years will fade away and I will again turn into the self-conscious boy that could not speak a word to her without blushing and shuttering. No, I don't want her to see me.

Or do I? It feels like every cell of my body is begging for a simple glance of hers. Everything in my mind is as messed and tangled as a ball of twine. I take a deep breath; she's the Hero of Ferelden, a skilled professional; she's a hazardous mage, a portal to demons. And I shall treat her no differently than that.

"Welcome to Kirkwall, Hero." Meredith bows her head slightly, not in respect—for she has none of that when it comes to mages—but in greeting. "Thank you for coming. Your support will be needed in these dire times."

Warden Commander Amell raises an eyebrow and the only thing I can focus on is the way her pale skin delicately stretches across her brow and, all of a sudden, I am wondering what it would feel like to run my fingers over that soft forehead, those smooth cheeks and glistening lips. The rain trickles down her nose, licking her skin slowly and deliberately and I have never wanted to be rain more than I do this moment. I swallow hard. "I will do my best, even though I hear you have a Champion of your own to rely on." My eyes close as I attempt to shove away the longing and urges this voice evokes in me.

"He's good at what he does." Meredith shrugs. "But he's no Hero of Ferelden." Her voice is as sheer as poison, yet I know the Hero's face too well to understand that she is not willing to support the Knight-Commander's cause. "This is First Enchanter Orsino from the mages, and my second in command, Knight-Captain Cullen. They shall be present during our conversation."

I'm left with my eyes widened in fear—I haven't been prepared for a straightforward introduction, much less stepping forward like Meredith is now beckoning me to. I sweat, even though the cold is chilling enough to pass through my cuirass. Yet my legs bring me forth, next to the Knight-Commander. My long years of training are kind enough to remind me to bow and automatically say; "Warden Commander, it is an honor to meet you again." I'm grateful to realize that my voice, even though hoarse, doesn't shake. As I straighten up, I catch her eyes and the flicker of shock that swirls in them, but I blink, and it is gone as quickly as it came.

"I could say the same, Cullen." Her sweet voice caresses my name ever so delicately as she smiles and it is all I can do not to fall apart right here and now. My knees buckle and the urge to grab her and embrace her form in my arms, to feel her flesh against mine and her lips whispering in my ear comes back, just like it did back in the Circle of Ferelden. I breathe in as discreetly as possible. "Oh—I'm sorry. It is Knight-Captain now, right? Time has changed you." Her orbs travel over the inches of my face and I can practically feel her gaze grazing my skin. I gulp, because I suddenly feel like she can see right through me.

"It—it has changed us both." I struggle to maintain an even tone.

"Cullen has been very dedicated to his duty," Meredith quips and I cannot decide whether I am grateful or annoyed by her interference. "That is why I wanted him to be here today. Come, we have a lot to discuss."

The Warden averts her gaze and I can see the slightest blush reddening her smooth cheeks. She follows Meredith in and this is the first time I notice she's not alone. There are more people with her; a dwarf, broad and stinky, grunts through his bronze beard as he walks beside her and another mage, kind and caring nods at me as she passes by—that one I recognize from the circle, Wynne—but all I can look at is _her_. Her and only her; she consumes my mind and, suddenly, Uldred's sick depravities, things that have disgusted me for so long, that have given me nightmares from which I woke sweating and screaming, do not seem as important anymore.

This isn't right. Mages are supposed to be dangerous. Mages are to be shown any kind of mercy. They are prey; prey to demons and themselves. But, as I look at her now, watching in pure fascination as she laughs to the dwarf's request for cheap ale, as she runs a hand through her wet hair to brush her luscious locks out of her twinkling eyes, I cannot help but realize; my chances of giving in to _her_ temptation are bigger than hers of giving in to demon's temptation ever were. I'm more dangerous than she is. To both her and myself.

We all have weaknesses—hers is demons. And mine is her.

**I may write a continuation to this story, with a dialogue between Cullen and the Warden? It depends on how much you people want to see something like that. This is my first Dragon Age fic, and it is different than anything I have ever written; I do not usually use first POV and Simple Present tense. But I wanted to present a deep insight into Cullen's thoughts. Hopefully, I succeeded.**

**I also didn't give the Warden any name or appearance—I want you to imagine your own character in her place. **

**Thanks to my beta, NinjaKick, for editing this!**

**Please, review and let me know what you think of it!**

**~Dora.**


	2. Chapter 2

Meredith's office is small, yet the space between me and the Hero seems vast. She's standing so close to me now that I can literally feel the warmth radiating off her body, piercing through my armor and reaching my boiling skin; her mana mingles with it, and I can sense it buzzing in the room with heavy rage, hanging in the thick air. Still, I have never felt more distant with someone than I now do with her. She doesn't speak much; just presenting her opinion with sharp expressions and ebullient gestures. The Knight-Commander speaks still, unaffected by the Hero's unwillingness to succumb to her anti-mages demands. More often than not, I find myself entranced – starring and admiring and almost _drooling_ over something I could never and will never claim as mine. And, more often than not, her gaze meets mine for the tiniest of moments, twinkles, and then averts itself to focus on Meredith.

Her eyebrows are raised on her sleek forehead, and an ironic smile twitches the ends of her lips up, barely revealing her two dimples. "Let me get this straight." The Warden-Commander interrupts. "You want _me_, of all people, to help you influence the Circles outside Kirkwall to take stricter measures."

Meredith folds her arms in front of her steel-capped chest. "Is it that hard to grasp, Hero?"

As if unconsciously, Warden Amell turns her head towards me, her face a mask of pure incredulousness. My body reflexively shudders under the intensity of her gaze. "She can't be serious?" She whispers, so softly that I begin to doubt if she has spoken at all.

I shake my head, not in denial, but in distress. Even a templar like me can comprehend the impossibility of the Hero's positive answer to such a task. Thrask is seeing it, too. I can feel him shooting apprehensive glances towards me, voicing a silent question which had been whispered among the shadows of Kirkwall. So, what _is_ Meredith thinking?

"You can't ask her this, Knight-Commander!" Orsino snaps at her, his eyes blazing with green fire. "Even _you_ can see that this is absurd!"

"It is the only way to ensure safety and if this makes my words _absurd_, First-Enchanter, then so be it."

"I am a mage, Meredith. A _mage_." The Hero unfolds a small chuckle and, when it reaches my ears, all sounds are erased from my mind's memory, perished and lost under the echo of her well-known laughter. Images overflow in my mind, moments I had spent watching her at the Circle in Ferelden before that Grey Warden, Duncan, took her away, when I had fought through long temptations and desires with no success. She had laughed like that when I had caught her escaping her daily practice lessons, and had laughed even harder when I shuttered a reply, huffing through my blushed cheeks. She had been different then. And I had been different then, but now that I see her, it feels like little pieces of my old self come back to be adhered on the puzzle of my incompleteness.

"Which is exactly why I expect you to serve your kind and protect it as much as your position allows you to."

The Hero is serious now and her eyes darken, all humor drained from them. She's not willing to help Meredith and, even though I should despise her for that, all I can do is notice the beauty behind it all, the selflessness and determination, the bravery that had saved the world."Oh, believe me, I _will_ protect my kind and do everything that is in my power to achieve it – _everything_."

"Threats do not frighten me, even if they come from the Hero of Ferelden!"

"For the last time – I will _not_ do it. Find someone as crazed as you to do your job; I am not going to be your puppet."

"It is your duty to save the world from itself, Hero, but if you're not willing to do so, then perhaps you are not worthy of your title."

A feeling rises deep inside me, intense enough to turn my hands into two tight, trembling fists. My jaw clamps and it takes me a while to realize that it is anger that caused the reaction along with the urge to protect _her_ – the Hero of Ferelden, the least of people that needed protection. Yet, even as I saw the absurdness behind my thoughts, I spoke. "That's enough, Knight-Commander! This is the Hero you are talking to." Amell is looking at me now, with an expression as unreadable as an elven book.

Meredith turns her cold eyes to me, incredulous and accusing, as if expecting me to feel regret and apologize for my outburst, but I do neither. "No. This is a mage I'm talking to, Ser Cullen, one that would succumb to a demon's whisper as easily as the others."

The Hero crosses her arms over her chest, turning her back to Meredith, and shakes her head in frustration.

"Surely," Wynne says; her voice gentle, hesitant and all motherly-like made me instantly feel calmer. "This is a little harsh."

Meredith pauses for a minute, her gaze gauging Wynne with suspicion. "It is necessary."

The dwarf scoffs loudly. "You humans are all legs and no mind."

"Leave it be, Oghren." The Hero replies, her tone final. "Let's go – I've had enough."

The dwarf, Oghren, grumbles, but doesn't argue. A burden falls on my chest, crushing it with an unexpected force and, suddenly, breathing becomes hard and staying silent becomes harder. I do not want her to leave – not now. It seems as if I have so many things to tell her, so many things to do. I feel foolish, knowing that, if I get the chance, I will tell her nothing. Still, the thought of separating with her leaves me empty and pained. Chances are I will never see her again. And why should I? We follow different paths, paths that are not supposed to cross, paths that are not to ever merge, no matter how much I want them to.

"Is this your final answer?" Meredith is trembling with anger.

Warden Amell nods. "It is."

"Very well, then. I should not have expected more."

"That's right. You shouldn't have."

"Ser Cullen, see the Hero out. Her business here is done."

See her out? I am supposed to see the Hero out, all professional, without falling apart? Should that terrify me or make me ecstatic? I freeze and feel her eyes turn on me.

Meredith sighs. "Ser Cullen?"

I gulp, as I finally become aware of the need to answer. "Of—Of course, Knight-Commander."

I go ahead and she follows next to me, silent and angry. The way out is easy and one cannot get lost in the Gallows, yet she does not refuse my help, and this makes my heart flutter with excitement. We have now reached the docks, and I stop in front of the two boats that are supposed to get her and her companions across the lake. She stops too, right next to me, and I am too aware of the closeness between us. Oghren the dwarf groans as he climbs in the boat, addressing me with a _'say, kid, any good taverns around here?_' and Wynne smiles at me and lets him help her in. The boat leaves, yet, the Hero remains at my side and I feel the need to say something – anything to break the silence.

"I…I apologize on Meredith's behalf. You should not have witnessed that."

"I don't know how you can stand working with her." She smiles at me, her eyes full of life and I am at a loss of words, as all I can focus on is the way the corners of her lips tilt upwards, the way her wet hair follow the curve of her neck.

"I…"

She takes a step forward – a step closer to me – and I am too shocked to even move. Her warm breath fans across my jaw as she looks up and my hands twitch, begging to be put over those cheeks and caress her glistening lips.

"Yes?"

_Stay composed. Stay focused._ "I am used to it. Working with her, I mean. She's right, in some things."

"Why, Cullen?"

I close my eyes. The way her sweet voice pronounces my name, ever so tempting, is too much. _Stay composed. Stay focused._ "Why what?"

"Why do you do it? I know you are not like her – you are different; you could have stopped this madness long ago."

_You are different_ – the phrase repeats itself in my mind, echoing in every dark corner. Different? I am not supposed to be different. My faith should lie in my Order, with the templars, and doubt should not crawl inside me. I'm the Maker's servant; my duty is clear and I should not be different. "It is not my place to question. Not after what I saw; not after what happened with Uldred."

"You're still thinking about that? This was the madness of a single man, Cullen. It doesn't take magic to be insane!"

I feel my anger bubbling inside, but I swallow it back, uttering the automatic response. "Only mages have so much power. Only mages are that dangerous – all of them."

She shakes her head and takes another step forward, her body almost touching mine. "All of them? Am _I_ really that dangerous?"

I close my eyes again. She is dangerous for me, but not in the way a _mage_ is dangerous.

"Meredith would have struck me down, if she could. Would you call that just? Am I really that big a threat?"

The image of Meredith killing her flashes before my eyes, and I shudder at the thought. Yet, I do not answer her questions directly. "You're the Hero. It's different."

"You didn't use to be like that, Cullen. Back in the Circle—"

"Back in the Circle, I was a boy, a naïve boy. Things have changed now, maybe not for the best, but there's nothing I can do."

"Has _everything_ changed?"

I understand the meaning behind her question, and I am tempted, ever so tempted to forget where I am and who I am. It doesn't have to be so hard. All it will take is me saying yes to her temptation, and following her lead – wherever that may be. I close my eyes again to compose myself, and when I open them her face is in front of mine, her wet forehead touching my brow. My breath gets caught in my throat at the proximity; her warm skin, slippery against mine, her sweet breath on my lips – things I had so long yearned for – are now driving me crazy. "Has it, Cullen?"

_Stay focused. Stay composed._ "Go." My hand reaches to cap her cheek but I manage to restrain myself, and place it upon her shoulder, pushing her back gently. "For both our sakes, go now."

For a moment, I thought – or rather wished – she wouldn't do so. But she smiles briefly, and takes a step back, climbing on a boat.

And I'm once again standing alone. I resisted the temptation once again, but was it the right thing to do? It seemed like a sin to refuse such a miracle. But the option is now gone; _she_ is gone and a part of is gone with her.

I will never be free of my temptation.

**This is the second and final part. Not yet edited, but it will be soon. **

**I want to clear some things up. If you have played Awakening, then you know that the Hero disappears shortly after, while no one knows where she went. This takes place somewhere in between the end of Awakening and the beginning of Act 3. **

**Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing. Much appreciated. Who knows? Maybe one day Varric will say **_**this**_** story. ;) **

**That is all! Hope you enjoyed reading and that you are satisfied! Please, review and let me know what you think of it.**

**~Dora.**


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